Through a Mother's Eyes
by SouthernBelle.Love
Summary: "That was where the lies had begun. If she hadn't had known better, if that hadn't had been the first time in his short life that she had seen that look in his eyes. She might have believed him." Frigga remembers her dear sons in their childhood and hopes for a better future.


As a child, being shy made one precious. As an adult, staying to yourself made you appear mature, wise eve. But, in adolescence – the ripe age of 16 to be exact – it just made on seem awkward, unpleasant.

Her son – her _real _son – never had trouble with this. The second he could walk, the other boys flocked to him, wanted to be his friend. As he grew, his friends followed his natural leadership. What else could be expected from a boy born to be king?

But it was her other son, her youngest, which troubled her.

She remembered clearly when her husband brought the screaming child home after battle. She had been shocked, almost reluctant.

But then she had held him. A tiny, malnourished, mistreated infant, left out to die in the cold of Jotunheim. How could she turn him away?

As he grew, he was the opposite of his elder brother. Where her first born grew taller with a more athletic, muscular build, shaggy hair blonde, his father's bright blue eyes, her younger stayed much smaller, his build lean, his ink black hair smoothed away from his face, dazzling green eyes downcast.

He followed his older brother like a lost puppy. He took part in his games with the young Lady Sif and the Warriors Three.

But she didn't miss a thing.

She didn't miss the teasing words thrown the small boy's way. He laughed with them, struggling to keep up.

She didn't miss the snickers hidden behind their hands when he didn't do something as well as the others.

She didn't miss as, when he grew older, he realized the teasing wasn't as light-hearted as he once thought. She didn't miss the hurt in his eyes, the way his lower lip would tremble.

But his brother miss it entirely. Not to say Thor was not a fit brother. On the contrary, he was very kind to his baby brother. He always included him, stuck up for him. He had once recienved a bloody nose from one of the other children of Asgard who had decided to pick on poor Loki. Thor had given the boy a black eye and a minor concussion in return. But he didn't see the hostility in his closest friends' words. He laughed along, in fact, making his own little jokes. These jibs, on their own, would seem completely harmless. However, paired with the many others, mainly Lady Sif's, they were like knives.

She – their mother – hadn't noticed how horrible it truly was until her youngest son – only seven at the time – had come barreling down the hallway, tears threatening to spill from shining emerald eyes.

"Loki?" She had called out to him, following his as quickly as her gown would allow.

He had stiffened, turning to look at her, surprised. He hand't known she was there. Quickly raising a black sleeve to wipe the tears from his eyes, his voice trembled as he asked, "Yes, mother?"

She raised her gown, allowing herself to kneel beside him. "Whatever is the matter, dear?" She whispered to him as gently as she could. "What has upset you so?"

"Nothing, mother." He smiled. "I am perfectly fine. Just tired, is all."

He had pressed a kiss to her cheek before turning and walking away, no doubt to the solitude of his bedroom.

That was where the lies had begun.

If she hadn't had known better, if that hadn't had been the first time in his short life that she had seen that look in his eyes. She might have believed him.

Upon further inspection, she had found the source of Loki's distress was indeed caused by his dear brother and the others Loki had once considered his friends. The exact prank escaped her now, but Frigga remembered something involving the enchanted dolls used to practice and train. When she found the five children, they were laughing heartily, holding their sides, tears shining in their eyes.

"I'd hate to say it, my dear friend," Fandral had managed, clapping Thor on the shoulder, "but your brother is the biggest baby I have ever laid eyes upon."

Thor was laughing to hard to respond.

Loki would not come out of his room for dinner that day, nor the next.

It was only about a week later when Loki exacted his revenge, scaring not only Thor and his friends, but near all of Asgard as well.

Even at such a young age, Loki was very intelligent and very gifted in magic. Therefore, a small spell to change an aspect of his appearance was nothing to him.

On the eve of Thor's tenth birthday, just before his party, Loki had run in the Grand Hall, bloodied and bruised, his clothes town, hair mussed, tears streaming down pale, torn cheeks, screaming of Frost Giants invading the palace.

An uproar had begun. The warriors took off, weapons at the ready, Odin their leader. Thor and his male friends, plus dear Sif of course, tried to follow, only to be held back by their remaining parents.

It wasn't until Frigga noticed out of the corner of her eye as Loki smirked, delighted, and his glamour lifted.

He had fooled them all.

It had been a definite embarrassment to Frigga and her son and husband. They had all been ashamed of the young boy. Odin had taken an hour to yell at the poor boy.

However, once the shock passed that her innocent little boy had caused such chaos, she understood. He had wanted to ruin his brother's party, to scare them all back, to make them fearful the way they had done to him so many times. He wanted to be in control and laugh at them for once.

The citizens of Asgard had been upset once they had found out the truth, but, for most, the anger had passed. The had started affectionately referring to Loki as the Prince of Mischief. Those who remained angry chose the harsher Prince of Lies.

But Loki was unfazed by the names. He was consumed only by the fact that his brother's friends still did not except him. In fact, their pranks and names for him only grew harsher. They didn't come to respect him because of the prank; they came to hate him for it.

Thor, on the other hand, began to notice his friends' hostility for his little brother, as time passed. But it was years before he even noticed.

When Loki was 10 – Thor 12 – Lady Sif spat a particularly nasty name at him when he asked to join them on a hunting trip – 'sniveling bawd'. The name had come from no where – he was 10 for the sake of the gods! – but Thor had grown hostile nonetheless.

He had begun to scream at the young girl, jumping from his horse. Red-faced, fists balled, his usual joyful disposition was long gone. Frigga had never seen her eldest son in this state before and, frankly, it frightened her.

But instead of being grateful for his brother's protection, Loki had grown angry as well, screaming that he could very well protect himself. He was not an infant.

"I do not need the protection of the chosen son of Asgard!" He had snapped at the scandalized blonde.

"Chosen son? Brother, what are you saying?"

"I am saying that while you are the shining apple of Father's eye, I am no more than the hovering insect he so wishes to crush beneath his boot! " Their mother had never heard him say such things. Neither had she ever seen that look upon Loki's pale features. "You shall become king while I shall remain forever in your impossibly large shadow!"

Loki had stomped away, the hunting trip forgotten. Thor had only looked saddened by his brother's confession.

Frigga had convinced the group to continue on their trip and to be careful in doing so. They did so, but in an all-consuming silence.

A week later, everything was back to normal. No anger or tension rested between the two brothers and, if anything, they only seemed closer.

They grew up together, quicker than Frigga hoped, and, tonight, on the eve of Thor's eighteenth year, the boy had even invited his younger brother on one of their ever-so-famous hunting trips through the Bifrost.

She only hoped that Loki would keep his tricks and schemes to himself. Sure, his pranks were harmless enough, only to cause that bout of chaos he had come to love so, but Frigga, and Odin as well, feared that his powers, his natural ability, had become to strong and his pranks would spin out of control. Or if that anger from only six short year ago returned and he snapped in a way that wouldn't focus on words.

Violence and fighting were in his blood.

The princes' mother feared that, if he were to learn of his true heritage and his father's true intention, to learn that his brother truly was the chosen son of Asgard, to learn that he could truly never amount to his brother in a chance to become king…

She feared she would lose them both.

(Page Break)

My obsession with Thor and Loki (especially Loki) come to fruition.

This will only be a one-shot.

Reviews are Love!


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